Persona 3 FES The Seduction of Akihiko Sanada
by Caeila
Summary: What does it take to get Gekkoukan High's most popular non-couple together? Mitsuru makes the first move, Akihiko grows into a man. Erotic Romance
1. Chapter 1

USUAL DISCLAIMERS: all characters belong to Atlus, except in some cases I had to slap names on people because there weren't any or I forgot what the hell they were. Feel free to use the ideas or enjoy or pass it on or whatever. A big THANK YOU to my beta-reader squishybee and everyone who writes fanfic for the rest of us to enjoy. You've all made my boring life more tolerable. :D

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FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

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Shin Megami Tensei Persona 3 FES: The Seduction of Akihiko Sanada

Act One - by Caeila

Rating: MA

Category: Erotica, Erotic Romance

Pairing: MitsuAki / Mitsuru x Akihiko / AkiMitsu

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WARNING: SPOILERS! ESPECIALLY FROM EMPRESS S.LINK!

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She faced the wall calendar, seeing but not seeing its depiction of scarlet and yellow November leaves above the Kyoto onsen. Soft footsteps slipped along the hallway, stopping at her door. Someone tapped. The sound brought her back.

"Enter," she murmured, hands clasped in her lap. She had been trained in the highest social circles—modern royal courts—to hide her nervousness. _Resignation is the first lesson in life._ She had heard that proverb many times, but it was too late now to listen—

The door slid left to reveal a young man in _seiza_—a formal Japanese sitting pose with his knees tucked under him. His indigo blue yukata was tied squarely against his taut waist. He had high cheekbones and long-lashed, inquiring eyes that could have belonged to a woman, if not for his entirely masculine demeanor. He flinched, crimson-faced, when he saw her serious gaze.

"Hello—I mean, good evening, Mitsuru. I got your message. Am I in trouble?" He bowed his head awkwardly.

Surprise touched Mitsuru's face. Perhaps she had been more dangerous in her note than she had intended. "Akihiko, do you remember the fourth full moon on Shirakawa Boulevard?" Her voice shook as a leaf does when a ladybug alights.

"Is that why you called me? How could I forget?" He raised his head and gazed fiercely into her eyes. "I could say it was the irresistible influence of the Lovers Arcana, but I was inexcusable."

Ah, he felt guilty. That was it. She gave him the smallest of smiles, a tiny crinkling around the edges of her almond eyes. "Would you like some tea? It's a Chinese type, 'Winter Phoenix Frost'."

Rising gracefully from the soft tatami matting to her knees, she poured two cups from a delicate peach ceramic pot. Fragrant tendrils of steam spiraled into the air. It helped steady her nerves. Hopefully, it would have the same effect on him.

Akihiko's eyes followed the sweep of Mitsuru's silvery yukata sleeves. She placed a steaming cup in front of him. "I didn't have the strength to resist it until—" The young man touched a loosely closed hand to his cheek. His voice dropped. "You were so beautiful, and you were wearing nothing but a towel. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Finish what you started," said Mitsuru simply. She replaced the teapot onto its lacquer tray. "You are forgiven. I want you to continue where you left off."

He froze like a skittish colt. She held herself very still. She was afraid that the wrong move would make him bolt. Then he shook himself and repeated her dumbly. "Huh? You want me…to continue…?"

Her mind protested. _What are you doing? This can't work out! _Mitsuru quieted the voice. Yukari had smacked some sense into her earlier, about the death of her father. She felt freer, more reckless tonight.

The young woman reached out to caress his hand, as if reassuring a wild creature. "We're fighting Shadows that get stronger every time we enter Tartarus. Do you ever think about dying? I do, all the time. _Memento mori._ It's an old Latin phrase: remember that you are mortal." She tilted her head. "Whether we live or die, I want to give you a small part of me. If you wish to take it."

She took a deep breath and brushed her lips over his. It was awkward, but it got the point across.

Akihiko leaned forward, meeting her lips with an exploratory brush of his own. "Are you sure, Mitsuru? I mean, you resisted the Shadow." He seemed to be holding himself tightly in check.

"There was duty and the mission to consider." She bit her lower lip. "Its pull nearly overwhelmed me too. You're not a 15-year old boy any longer; believe me, I noticed. We've known each other for so long. I trust you."

"You deserve someone more…" Longing, fear and guilt fought on his face.

"Older? Experienced? No." It came out more severely than she wanted. She tried to soften her expression. "I want to be with you tonight. I reserved this room at the far end of the hot springs for that reason." Desire clashed with uncertainty in his eyes. She touched his hand shyly. "Shall I show you what to do?"

He smiled then, still unsure, but eager as a small boy ready for his first karate lesson. Pulling her close, he murmured, "Yes. If you lead, I'll follow."

His acquiescence lifted some of the heaviness she had not known she carried. Mitsuru snuggled against him for a moment, swallowing hard. He smelled of soap, clean sweat, and that unidentifiable male something that made her insides clench so pleasantly. Just for tonight, she would give in to what she wanted. Just for tonight, she was not a Kirijo, only Mitsuru.

"We'll have to get this off," she said, guiding his hands to the knot of the obi at her waist. As he fumbled, she released the obi holding his blue yukata closed. She giggled in surprise. "Red briefs, Akihiko? Very nice."

"Dammit, how'd you do that so quick?" he chuckled. He seemed to relax slightly into his usual self. "Aw, forget this." He gripped the edges of her yukata. Before she could protest, he pulled the top of her robe open. His jaw dropped. "I never suspected pink lace."

He pushed the yukata down her arms, exposing the white porcelain skin of her shoulders. Mitsuru blushed, realizing through the sudden warmth down _there_ that she liked being half-naked for his eyes to explore. Liked it when he was just a little forceful.

He stroked her shoulders with clumsy fingertips. His voice was confused. "You have bruises and scrapes here. How did that happen?"

She mentally cursed herself for forgetting. "They're not painful anymore. Here, let me help you." She undid the knot at her waist. The cloth rustled down in a silvery pile on the padded tatami. Akihiko's eyes seemed to absorb her body through his black irises.

Mitsuru gathered her hair in a thick bundle in front of her. She turned, presenting her partner with the soft bare expanse of her back. She trailed her hand down the back of her neck, pulling her hair forward and out of the way. "I enjoy being kissed here."

"Yes, Teacher." His voice was strangely respectful. He brushed her skin with feathery fingertips, careful of her injuries, sprinkling patient kisses across her neck and shoulders. She began to squirm in pleasure under the single-minded attention. He was as obliging as she had hoped, so she made her next request. "Do you think you can get my bra undone?"

Akihiko breathed a quiet response, "Oh, God. Yes." He reached for her bra, but after some seconds of muttered frustration, was unable to get the series of hooks loose.

She turned back to him, a little unsure. "It's all right, sometimes it's hard even for me." He bobbed his head a millimeter up and down, hands at his sides. She touched warm lips reassuringly to his, gently guiding his hands to her waist.

She slid them over her stomach, up to her soft lace-clad mounds. The bra's underwire offered her breasts to him like perfect ripe apples. He made a small sound deep in his throat. Mitsuru let his hands stay there as she reached around to undo her bra.

His tentative hands found their way under cloth to her nakedness. He rolled her nipples, like cherries, between thumb and forefinger, lightly kneading the fullness of her breasts. She made soft noises to let him know she approved.

While one hand worked on her left, he sucked at her right, sounding the way someone would slurp the curled top of a tall yogurt cone. The electric shock of it tingled throughout her body. She moaned softly. Her mind went blank. No one had ever done that before. She was amazed it was possible to feel so good.

There was an edge of feral pleasure in his bright grin. "That seems to work well."

"Don't…be…silly," she panted.

"You mean you don't like this? Are you sure?" He did it again, placing his mouth over her firm nipple as if it was the mouth of a soda bottle. He sucked as if to draw her entire body in. When he drew breath, his tongue flicked at her. She cried out. He was unrelenting.

It was as if a live wire connected his mouth and the throbbing between her legs. She entwined her hands in his short silver hair. A sudden gust of cool autumn air, bringing with it the hint of an early snow, rolled over them through an open window. She moaned his name.

It was only when he stopped that she came back to her senses. He had a delighted half-smile on his face that made her dizzy with shame. He rubbed her hip with the hand that wasn't occupied kneading her right breast.

His voice was intimate. "Forget about your dignity, Mitsuru. Every sound you make is beautiful. I want to hear that again." He had no trouble sliding her sheer lace panties down to her knees.

She felt him boldly place a finger along her wet slit, rubbing her with languid strokes. Brilliant white firefly lights seemed to glow in his eyes as he looked at her.

He petted her between the legs. She had always kept her hair there cropped close. He lifted his finger to his tongue, savoring her flavor. "Mmm, you're sweet. Salty. And incredibly wet." His eyes had deepened into dark pools, engulfing her.

"Aki, let's shower first," she said. She dropped her gaze, shivering to see him taste his finger. She would have felt more self-conscious, had he not been apparently enjoying himself so very much.

He stopped, but began kissing the space between her neck and shoulder. It was almost as hard to refuse. She rested against him for a moment, then pushed him away with a half-hearted shove. She took him by the hand, leaving the tangled rope of her panties behind.

Frosted glass doors and a camel-brown sandstone counter stood in the entryway just outside the shower room. She pressed him against the counter and slid down, tucking her fingers into his waistband.

Heat rolled off him like a radiator into the cool night. He was so warm. What was it that she was doing? She couldn't remember, basking like a kitten in that throbbing heat, rubbing her cheek against the heavy thickness of him. He was very clean, with just a hint of sweat and the special soap kept at the resort they were visiting. His musk, that thick male smell of him, intoxicated her.

Mitsuru licked at his hardness, gazing up at his face. His eyes were closed. He was breathing fast, as if coming off a practice session with the speed bag. His skin seemed to glow, but then, he had always been delightfully, naturally pale. He groaned softly, seeming to hold himself back.

"Akihiko, I want to hear you too," whispered Mitsuru. She lapped at him, exploring him through the cloth. Without warning, he threw his head back and grunted. His hips jerked. The red cloth of his briefs turned dark. Her lips touched the wetness as he pulsed, feeling a subtle thrumming run through her, like the hum of a power line.

When she looked up, he was gazing at her with unfocused eyes. He stroked a hand weakly through her hair. She wasn't imagining it. He was glowing in the way distant lightning illuminates the back of thunderclouds. She wasn't sure what it meant. At that moment, she didn't care.

"You're not done already, are you? We haven't even made it to the shower yet," Mitsuru said, amused. She was not going to admit that she had utterly forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.

He tried to catch his breath. "Weren't we supposed to go shower first? You just…give me a minute. I'll be ready for anything you want."

"Still trying to be cool?" she said archly.

"You of all people should talk."

"Let's get this off, then." Mitsuru slipped her fingers under his waistband and wriggled the cloth free. Akihiko had not gone soft. He was long and reasonably thick, and he curved gracefully up towards his bellybutton. Just looking at that curve up close made Mitsuru shiver.

"Come, you can wash me up," she said, "and I'll do you too." She snagged two puffy towels. Her heart skipped a beat as she slipped a small plastic-wrapped square into the stack.

The shower room was a ten-by-ten square foot cube covered with glistening onyx tiles. Against the left wall was the _ofuro_, a high bathtub used only for soaking. It was lined with aromatic cedar wood. There was a blue plastic bucket and faucets to one side for washing, but Mitsuru adjusted the shower overhead to a pleasantly hot temperature.

Akihiko stroked her backside with admiring fingers as water pattered off their bodies. She put one foot up on the bath stool. He stared down at the opening between her legs, taking deep breaths. He looked painfully hard again, his engorged length pressed against his stomach.

She handed him a bar of soap. "Make sure everything's clean, but don't put your soapy fingers inside me."

"What if they're not soapy?" he said, all seriousness.

"Then you can do what you like, but—" she paused, her voice teasing, "—wouldn't you like to put other things inside me?" He caught his breath, making a tiny desperate noise. She meant to kiss him gently, but he kissed back like he wanted to eat her. Wanted to suck her down and swallow her like a spoonful of ice cream.

Akihiko drew back. His eyes were almost possessive as he watched her. She rubbed cedar-charcoal soap over him, around his ears, down his back and over his nipples, then down to his legs and feet. He even allowed her to stroke him between his legs, along that soft skin between his two most private areas. Frothy bubbles crisscrossed his skin, swept away by falling water.

She finally took hold of his beautiful shaft, poking up with the virility of a young bamboo shoot. She carefully rubbed her palm over the underside of its domed head before rinsing him with the same motions.

"Dammit," he growled. "Don't tease me. You have no idea how much I want to have you on the floor right here." Despite his words, his touch was light.

"Already? It's only been a few minutes since—"

"I told you I'd only need a few." He looked proud of himself. It was a ridiculously cute expression, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

He rubbed soap across her skin and tentatively down in her most intimate parts. She put her hands over his. "Touch me harder, I won't break," she urged. When he did, she writhed a little and almost forced herself onto his searching fingers, but he drew back. She made a small moan of protest. "You said no soapy fingers," he chided.

Akihiko rinsed his hands clean and resumed rubbing her in that place. Kneeling below her, he pushed her thighs apart and positioned his index finger at her crevice. Water dripped off his eyes and nose. He was fixated on watching his finger, a small insistent animal burrowing into its hole.

She held herself apart for him. She was not sure she would enjoy being invaded, but she did. The feeling of him separating her swollen flesh left her panting and dazed. When he crooked his finger and brushed her erect clitoris with his thumb, she fought to keep from buckling.

"I don't know what I did, but the look on your face is priceless," he laughed delightedly, a deep masculine sound. He was just a few months younger than Mitsuru, but he sounded much older. She thought of distant thunder rolling down high mountains. She gripped a steel handrail along the wall and gave him an embarrassed smile.

Over the echo of artificial rainfall from the shower, Akihiko said, "You're glowing. I can see it clearly now, against the black tiles."

She looked at him in surprise. For a moment, she saw him with long blonde hair and silver eyes, his broad shoulders painted with scars. Who? No, he was Akihiko. She was safe with him.

He turned his finger slowly around, in circles, stirring liquid in a chalice. Distantly, she heard him say wonderingly, "Like moonlight off a glacier. Maybe you always look like this, I never noticed so much as now."

It didn't seem important. She could only think of his finger inside her, how good it felt as it worked her open. She pushed him down to the tiled floor, into the low swirling water. His head lay just out of reach of the showerhead. "Give me—I want something bigger," she said breathlessly.

"It's ready whenever you are, Mitsuru," he said, his voice thick. "Do you have a condom?" He stroked her hips.

She spread towels neatly on either side of him, to cushion her knees. The plastic-wrapped square plinked to the floor. The towels turned soggy immediately, but they would do. She gratefully brushed her lips over his. "Yes, thank you for your concern."

The young woman knelt over him. She touched his abdomen, feeling the soft silkiness of his skin. She stroked further down. He was so hard, so full to bursting, she ached sympathetically for him. She ripped open the plastic square, unfurling the latex down his hardness, leaving a little over a finger width's worth of space at the tip.

"Heh, I should have known you'd be prepared." His face was open with anticipation, his voice a low masculine rasp.

"Please, don't move," she said. He nodded agreement. "I'm afraid this could hurt," she continued. A look of worry knurled his brow.

Mitsuru smiled him reassuringly. "It's just that—I want to go at my pace." She made her next words sound like a promise. "This time." He reached up to touch her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and covered his hand with hers.

She guided him to her entryway, felt his heavy purple head split her open. Water had replaced some of her lubricant; water wasn't as slippery. It would have been easier going on the bed, but she wanted him right now. Millimeter by millimeter, Mitsuru allowed herself to fall on him. Akihiko's wide eyes silently urged her on.

There was resistance and a sharp pain as she forced herself through. Akihiko groaned quietly with happiness. His strong arms pulled her down onto his torso. Their bodies were melded together, his key in her lock. If there was blood, it was washed away by the hot water rushing around them.

He wordlessly kissed the top of her head, perhaps checking on her condition. She snuggled into him. Although she didn't think she would cry, she sobbed once as she returned his kiss. The young woman buried her face into his chest. Her tears were washed away, unidentifiable.

Akihiko stroked her back. "Wow. I didn't expect you to be—Mitsuru, are you okay? Please don't cry."

She forced herself to breathe again. "It's all right. Just don't pound me like one of your opponents." She smiled weakly and shook her head, raining dark wet tresses over his muscled chest. "Come to think of it, you can do that later. But for now, please go slowly."

His lungs heaved. "Either way, I don't think I can last very long. You're tight."

Akihiko began steady, powerful strokes inside her. He was the motor and she was the cable car slowly winding up the side of a snow-capped mountain. Each thrust propelled her higher. She began to push herself down, meeting him halfway. Her body picked up speed, faster and faster to the top of the slope.

"Harder, Akihiko!" she cried out. He moaned his assent, pummeling himself into willing body, looking for his own relief while bringing hers. It pushed her to the precipice.

Something tore through her body. It took her by surprise: a blizzard, dizzying with wind and a snowfall that was almost hail. It howled like the watery typhoon that had cancelled the Culture Festival earlier this year. She had been unafraid then, as she was now. Water was simply another form of ice. The storm crashed into the walls of her innermost self, raged through the quiet halls, blasted open all the doors. She screamed her pleasure for Akihiko.

As Mitsuru spasmed around his cock, he pulled her down into a deep, almost bruising kiss. Through the haze of her climax, she felt him enfold her in electric wings, his thrusts like powerful red lightning strikes. With each stroke, he pushed her higher, through the snowfall.

In her mind, they had reached the inside of a thunderous rain cloud. Lightning struck around them, creating a loose net of light that was always changing. The light fused, the sky covered in searing white. Finally, a massive bolt hit them. It poured over them silently, like milk into a glass. She was blinded.

Akihiko roared his release. It mixed with the detonation, the sound shockwave that follows a close lightning strike. He slammed his hips snug into hers, his life force convulsing into her, crushing his mouth against hers as if he meant to return her screams.

Hearing him explode flung her, like a cork in the ocean, to the next orgasmic wave even before the first wave had fully subsided. She tore her lips away from him and screamed an answer to his roar. The air filled with a flurry of snowflakes as she writhed over him. He scraped his nails down her back and squeezed her rear, trying to push deeper inside. The third wave of climax rushed through her with the fury of an avalanche. White spots flared behind her sight, and then all was blackness as she collapsed on top of him.

When she came to, he was stroking her hair and trying to catch his breath.

He nibbled on her left ear. "Wow. You're amazing as always."

Maybe it was because he was still half-hard inside her, or maybe it was the memory of the spectacle she had made of herself. She shook her head no. If she hadn't been already flushed, she would have become so instantly.

"But you're scary," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Look around you."

For a second, she wondered where they had been transported. They were in a close, white valley. Powder snow stretched up steep hills. Hanging overhead were stubby, translucent icicles. Here and there, she could see glossy tile showing through. A warm rain still pounded her back, pouring over the both of them.

She glanced at the man underneath her, horrified. "I lost control. I could have killed you."

"The thought had crossed my mind. You're the only one of us who can truly summon without an Evoker. Then again, if this is how you lose control, I'm willing to put my life on the line for you every time you call." He shot her a playful leer.

"Sounds like Iori's rubbing off on you." Her words were dry.

"Only you get to rub off on me, Mitsuru."

"You are too much of a gentleman."

"Forget about it. I'm not dead." He ground his hips against hers as a reminder.

"Maybe Penthesilea thinks that you're part of her," she said breathlessly. Mitsuru was reluctant to be teased out of her line of thought. "Or maybe it's just that I wasn't thinking of destroying anything, so no stalagmites."

He was moving inside her with a lazy smile. She experimentally clamped her muscles around him.

"How are you—what are you doing?" he gasped in surprise. His voice turned hopeful. "I don't know if I'll survive another round right now, but do think maybe you—Penthesilea—could give me immunity from cold, if we fight in Tartarus like this?" He grinned.

"It could be enough if we're touching," Mitsuru said, smiling for a moment.

"You never know until you try it. Come on," he laughed, "'Two in harmony surpass one in perfection.' That's the Kirijo Family motto."

She felt like she had been slapped. It showed. She smoothed her face over into its usual cool mask.

Akihiko's eyes became wary. He studied her carefully, enough that she had to look away. She held his base, keeping the condom in place. She pulled herself up carefully, shuddering from the slow suction of her body releasing his.

He sat up. "Mitsuru…? Listen… I didn't mean anything by it."

She shut off the water and left the shower room. He deserved to know. If they lived through the next two months, or even if they didn't, he deserved to know. She picked up a puffy white towel and began scrubbing herself with it. Hard.

Akihiko had followed her into the main room with a towel around his waist. He seemed to be searching for something neutral to say. "Say, uh, I saw your last test scores. Which colleges did you apply for? I bet one's Tokyo University, huh? I applied there too. We can take the entrance exams together. Wouldn't it be great if we could be at the same university, or at least stay in the same city?"

She let him babble on uncomfortably, because she wasn't sure how to begin speaking. But she had to tell him. It was only right.

"Akihiko."

He trailed off to a stop.

"I don't know if I'll be allowed to go to university." She threw her towel over a chair and rummaged through wardrobe drawers looking for underwear.

"Huh? But you're at the top of the class. Why wouldn't you go?"

"They—the Kirijo Family—my father's second-in-command, Takeshi—thinks it would be best if we create a stronger alliance with the Nanjo Group. He is not confident that I will be able to lead the Family on my own." Her voice sounded like a dull knife to her own ears. She pulled on a pair of dark green silk panties.

"That means they have arranged a husband for me. I'm engaged to Eiji Nanjo."

Akihiko said quietly, "I always thought you would lead the Kirijo Family by yourself."

"I'm not sure. I'm still very young. He's a brilliant businessman. He's ruthlessly worked his way up to become president of Nanjo Entertainment Corp." She dug around the drawer.

"You don't love him." It was a statement.

"My parents' marriage was arranged for them also. They grew to love each other, for the sake of the two corporations." She had recited these words to herself many times. Mitsuru drew her arms through a matching moss green silk bra.

"Eiji Nanjo. I think I've heard of him. Sometimes he's in the news. A playboy and semi-pro kickboxer. Isn't he almost 40?"

"It doesn't matter." She plucked her yukata from the floor.

"The injuries you have. He made them." His voice was harsh, angry.

"Uncle Takeshi gave me a choice—"

"Uncle Takeshi? Have I met him?"

"Once or twice in passing, perhaps. My mother's brother leads the company for now. He doesn't wish to do this, but we need to solidify our alliances. Ultimately, it's my responsibility." There was no denying it. She didn't feel like explaining anything else. She pulled the shimmering yukata around herself, tying it tightly.

"You're not one to let someone make your decisions for you," said Akihiko tightly.

Mitsuru said nothing.

Akihiko stared at her. "You haven't had sex with Eiji Nanjo."

She crushed a corner of her yukata. What she had just done with Akihiko had gone far beyond a plain act of rebellion. Men could have lovers, women not. It was a double standard, but if Eiji ever found out, the alliance would self-destruct. "He's been trying, I told him I would need birth control while I was in school. And time to adjust to side effects. But no, I haven't allowed him to penetrate me."

"Akihiko, I am selfish. I wanted my first time performing intercourse to be with you. The way he looks at me—" She sat on the bed, and drew her legs up against her chest for protection. Mitsuru was disgusted with Eiji Nanjo and herself. "Every time I was with him, I wanted you. He doesn't care about me. I thought—I see now that I acted wrongly." Her next words came out broken and backhanded, tasting like acid. "You're an orphan. I can't marry you."

"I didn't offer. You should do what's right for the Kirijo Family," he said.

The anguish in his face shocked her. She choked back regret.

Her father's death and Ikutsuki's betrayal had disturbed her composure. She had not thoroughly considered her actions, and as a result, she had cut Akihiko's heart deeper than she had imagined possible. Tiny glittering snowflakes fluttered into the room from nowhere. Mitsuru hoped that the young man would not eventually grow to hate her.

Akihiko threw on his yukata. He closed the door quietly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Shin Megami Tensei Persona 3 FES: The Seduction of Akihiko Sanada

Act Two - by Caeila

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They were bathed in late afternoon sun--a gentle wash of the reds and oranges. Akihiko stood, pants tangled around his legs, against pale walls.

The girl kneeling in front of him had pinned him there helplessly, the tip of his pulsing rod warm and wet against her swirling tongue. One slick hand squeezed him with care, creating a tight, wet tube for him to slide into. The other stroked his belly, down his hips, and the back of his thighs. He liked having the back of his thighs touched.

He gripped a handful of her thick, flame-hued cascade of hair, trying hard not to cram himself down her throat. She hummed her enjoyment. The vibrations tore an answering moan from him. He pressed his hands against the wall, willing himself to stay upright.

She purred, louder. Her head and hand bobbed like a furious piston. Her mouth was impossibly soft and hot, with a hint of melting ice-coolness.

The telltale sizzling began, down low in his heavy, tight sack. She reached up to cup him, her hand like feathers.

He gasped a warning. "I'm going to come." Time seemed to slow down. He heard the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears. It was a sound so loud, it seemed to echo outside of his head. "I can do it outside of your mouth if you want." He grabbed for something solid, anything.

There was only the wall behind him. He thought of sinking into it, gasping for air. "Please, don't stop!"

A firecracker-bomb bang echoed off the walls. Akihiko jerked, his eyes flying open. His heart pounded against his ribcage. Milky winter morning streamed in through the windows of his dorm room.

Outside his window, he heard cursing and clickety revving as someone pulled a motor string. After a few pulls, the motor rumbled to life. A lawnmower. Its rapid chopping sound drew near the building walls.

Sunday. Today was Sunday. Akihiko groaned, his breath expelling in a long puff. Smooth cotton sheets entangled his arms and legs; he unwound himself. Dammit, she was even in his dreams.

He wasn't sure he wanted to escape. The sheets and his pillow slid carelessly to the floor. He was hard, stretching the material of his white jockeys out in a pyramid before him. A damp splotch spread out on the fabric, looking as if he'd wet himself.

He shook his head with resignation. He hadn't had a wet dream since he was 13 or 14. This was the second time in five days. His groin still thrummed with its aftereffects.

It wasn't even just that one crazy night at the onsen, but that she was always there for him, that she knew him so well. In private, she could be soft and funny; some of that was naivete, some not. Few people ever really saw that part. And now, to be forced to marry someone who probably didn't value her—

As he pulled himself up by the edge of the desk next to his bed, a small paper-wrapped block thudded to the wooden floor, glancing off his bare foot. It was small bar of bamboo-charcoal soap, beautifully scented with cedar oils, from the Kyoto _onsen _resort. He'd kept it as a souvenir.

Its cinnabar red and _sumi-e_ black logo caught his eye: two cranes against the setting sun. One was poised in the water, a leg bent; the other flying to land near the first. Their beaks crossed each other at the tips. They could have been fighting, but since it was a company graphic, they had probably chosen each other as mates.

Mitsuru had smelled of that soap, another reason why he'd kept it. His gut twisted. A harsh growl escaped from his lips. He realized he was the one making the sound. He briefly considered kicking the bar under the bed.

No, that would be wrong. He put it firmly back on his desk, image side down.

Sighing, he stripped off his underpants and yanked on a fresh pair. Akihiko shoved his feet into a thick pair of gray sweatpants and pulled a long-sleeved t-shirt over his head. It read, "Japan International Mixed Martial Arts 2008 Championships" in bold font across the back.

At age 17, he'd placed in the flyweight category's top three against much older opponents. It was a solid achievement. He'd gained more muscle this year though, so he would have to move to a more challenging classification.

Sharp rapping sounded on the wall. "Akihiko-senpai, you awake in there?" Junpei's voice came through the door.

"I am now," Akihiko muttered. In a louder voice, he called out, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Can I come in and talk to you?" The younger man spoke with a slight edge of hesitancy.

"Can't it wait?" Akihiko said.

"Senpai, it's kind of…" Junpei's voice lowered to a hissing stage whisper. He probably thought he was being secretive, but Akihiko could hear him clearly. "It's about Mitsuru-senpai."

"All right, hang on." Hearing her name sent a quiver through his body. He peed and brushed his teeth quickly. The soiled underwear went into his bathroom sink to wash out later. The young man closed the door behind him. Hopefully, his _kohai_ Junpei wouldn't ask to use the attached facilities during the visit.

Akihiko unlocked his suite door. "Okay. Talk."

Junpei shuffled inside, a 50 yen coin dancing over his knuckles and under his fingers. The younger man flicked it into the air, but instead of catching it, he stretched his open palms up and out. There was no clink of falling metal; the coin simply disappeared. "Hey Akihiko-senpai. I've been practicing sleight of hand. Chicks dig it. Pretty cool, eh?"

Akihiko flicked him an eyeball. "I didn't let you in here for that."

Junpei bowed in apology. "Ow, don't do that. Look, there's no easy way to say this." He looked up and around the room in thought. Akihiko watched his eyes stop at the punching bag. It had been unhooked from its stand and laid on its side like some giant worm. Sand leaked out of a rip in its brown leather hide. Akihiko had punched it so hard yesterday that it'd split apart. He hadn't had a chance to repair it yet.

Junpei's mouth made a small 'o'. He shot Akihiko a serious look. "Since we came back from the Kyoto trip, Mitsuru been ultra-quiet. With her dad dying and all—she looks exhausted all the time and she's fading a little more each day. It's spooky. Not saying I miss it, but she doesn't even bug me about homework."

"I see." Akihiko felt a pang. It was stupid to think he'd be able to hide from his dormmates for this long, but he felt dumber for not realizing what was happening with Mitsuru. If only he hadn't been trying so hard to hide. Somehow, he'd imagined her invulnerable, but that wasn't true. Yukari had to shake her out of her depression when her father was killed. Akihiko hadn't known what to do. Was she resilient enough to withstand another blow if he dealt it?

"_So_, both of you have been coming back home so late, neither of you have been available to go to Tartarus in five days. We can't go without one of you. What is this, a contest for the title of 'Most Popular Hardcore Party Person'?" Junpei frowned, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "You've been avoiding each other."

"No, we haven't. We're not. We—I don't know—"

Junpei's eyebrows shot up beneath his baseball cap. "Akihiko-senpai. You're a terrible liar. Fuuka saw you sneaking out from the rooftop fire escape yesterday morning. We couldn't figure it out. You were only going to school, but you wanted to avoid Mitsuru-senpai, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Mitsuru drinks English Breakfast every morning down there." He slumped into his padded desk chair.

Junpei blew out an exasperated breath. He sat on the edge of Akihiko's bed, resting his right forearm on the desk. "Well, you can use the front door. She hasn't been in the common room a whole lot lately."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"I haven't. I'm worried about you and her, but she scares me more. Fuuka said she'd try. Fuuka's good. When you talk to her, you feel like you can confess all your sins. Uh, not that I have any. Sins to confess, that is." Only the tiniest edge of Junpei's laugh belied his comment. Akihiko let it pass.

"Good morning, everyone! Did I hear my name?" A soft knock and soothing dulcet voice sounded at the edge of the doorway. The girl in question appeared. She carried her microfiber laptop bag easily, slung over one shoulder as another woman might wear a purse. Her eyes passed over the torn punching bag on the floor. Aigis, her tousled head of blonde hair held by a thick ribbon, appeared next to her. Apparently grinning down low was the toothy muzzle of the dorm's white _akita-inu, _Koromaru.

"S'up, guys." Junpei nodded at them, rubbing the square of soul patch on his chin. "Akihiko-senpai, you might be my senpai in everything else, but in the matter of relationships, I'm yours." Fuuka shot Junpei a look that poked him in the head as surely as a finger. Junpei cleared his throat. "Now, what did you fight about?"

"Why do I feel like you're ganging up on me?"

"Because we are, Akihiko-senpai," Fuuka said innocently.

Koromaru leaned hard against Akihiko's legs. He whuffed. Akihiko obediently scratched behind the dog's pointy ears.

"We are concerned for your well-being," said Aigis, in that earnest way of hers. "We wish to resolve this crisis and restore you both to your previous strength and unity. Let us plan our attack objectives."

"Yukari and Minato aren't lurking outside too, are they?" grumbled Akihiko.

Junpei said, "They're out frolicking. Haven't you noticed they're all smoochy with each other? Now spill it."

Fuuka spoke. "We already know part of it. The Kirijo Family set up an _o-miai_. Mitsuru's fiance is Eiji Nanjo."

Damn, Fuuka must be a _terrier_ when extracting information. She'd probably make a fine interrogator for Interpol someday. Akihiko eyed her. "Ah, Mitsuru told you. I thought she wanted it to be her own business."

Akihiko picked up the soap block from his desk, turning it over in his hands. There was a long silence. They were waiting for him? Finally Akihiko said, "Look, I always thought she had a one-track mind. Battle, school, battle. Kill the Shadows, explore, get stronger."

Once he managed to make his mouth move, the momentum built. "I know what you think, pot calling kettle black. She's gorgeous, no one can ignore that. I told myself I could. I'm nobody. No family, nothing to my name." He glared at his friends, daring them to retort. "She wouldn't want me. But things changed after the fourth full moon, when we fought at the love hotel."

Fuuka kept her full attention on him as she sank into _seiza_ at the edge of the sand spill. Something in her peacefulness encouraged him. Aigis arranged herself on the floor too, pulling her knees to one side. Koro-chan nudged Akihiko, lending moral support.

"You know that the team was separated. Mitsuru and I were in a hotel room on one of the floors. Our minds were clouded, she was in the shower, but when she came out, she was uh, _wow_." Akihiko didn't think he was an easy man to make blush, but he felt heat creep up his neck. How much should he tell?

"I ah, practically attacked her. Things went pretty far." He frowned, two dimples appearing between his eyebrows. "She found the strength to struggle. I wanted to keep going. She smacked me. She hits like a brick house falling on your ear. It woke me up."

It was a relief to share what he had kept inside for so long. At the same time, he was afraid of what he was saying, what his friends would think. The words tumbled out faster. He had to get them out before he lost his nerve. "From then on, um, I tried to s-stay away from her because I was afraid I'd have that urge again. There wouldn't be a Shadow to blame it on next time. She'd despise me, you see?"

His breath came fast. He tried to will himself to be calm. "This is hard to say. It would be like _rape_. I c-couldn't do that. Anyway, ah, when we went to Kyoto, I stayed far away from her. I really did."

"Until she sent me a note, calling me to her room at one of the end wings. And, uh, this time she wanted me. Completely." Akihiko shook with the effort of telling his story.

Junpei whistled. "You melted the ice queen."

Fuuka and Aigis shot him a stare that would've stabbed him in place had he been an insect. The green-haired girl hugged her computer bag to herself. She said softly, "Akihiko-senpai, you don't have to."

Her plain acceptance, her gentleness, struck him. He remembered. Junpei had said something about confessions. Fuuka's arcana was the Priestess.

"Heh. Okay. You're right." Akihiko nodded a little too fast. His mind was numb. He felt hot tears form, like condensation on cold glass. "She dropped the Eiji Nanjo bomb afterwards."

He took several deep breaths. "Nanjo hurt her, but I'm an orphan. I have no family, no estate, _no business_ marrying someone so powerful. She said it. Maybe she meant it, I guess she did. I don't know if I can protect her from anyone anyway."

Akihiko stared in horror at his hand. He'd crushed the bar of soap into a shapeless pulp.

Fuuka said, "I saved the same little soaps from my room too, Akihiko-senpai. I'll bring another for you."

Aigis looked half surprised, half as if she might cry on his behalf.

"Yeah, it sucks. When you can't protect someone, and they end up protecting you instead." Junpei's expression was sad. He was probably thinking about Chidori. Akihiko wasn't the only one to suffer these past few months; he felt bad for forgetting. He thought of Mitsuru, how she tried so hard to watch over everyone—

Koromaru put his head in Akihiko's lap. Aigis translated. "Koro-chan wonders what is the problem. In his opinion, you are a warrior as worthy of her as any. You love her, she loves you, and there is a way out. His previous owner, the priest Sakurai, sometimes counseled families without sons. I am consulting my library archives for details on _muko-yoshi_."

Fuuka nodded. "You have to convince Mitsuru-senpai to change her mind. From what I gathered, she may be able to veto the _o-miai_."

Akihiko was silent.

Fuuka touched his chair. "Her sense of responsibility to the Kirijo Family holds her back. She will suffer anything to see that the Family survives and prospers."

Akihiko let the smashed packet of soap drop from his fingers.

"Yeah, she's about as stubborn as any woman has a right to be," muttered Junpei. "Hey, I saw _Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon_. No way are you two going down that route. That tragic shit makes me cry. Happily ever after, I say! At least fight for her, man. You know she wants you. 'Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.'"

Akihiko rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I remember that one. Lord Alfred Tennyson, some poem from English lit. Probably the only thing I remember from that class."

Junpei said, "We all see the way she watches you, when she thinks you're looking somewhere else. She forgets we notice too. Her eyes glow when she talks about you. And we see the way you look at her. You're a starving man, and she's a banquet you can't touch."

Akihiko blinked, feeling himself grow warm. He hadn't expected such insight from Junpei, a.k.a. the dorm's resident goofball. Junpei stared back at him with wise eyes that seemed to peer into Akihiko's heart.

In a small voice, Akihiko said, "I didn't think...it was so obvious."

"Listen, dude. Fuuka did some research on Eiji Nanjo. He killed one of his girlfriends in a drunken car crash back in college. His first wife left him in Greece, or maybe he left her. Rumor is he was shacking up with some beach bunny there. He might be powerful, but the guy is going to crush her unless you fight. Give her a reason to say no. Otherwise, we don't know if she'll able to stand up to him and the rest of her family by herself."

"You and I both know she can run the Kirijo Family. Hell, look at how she looks after details here. We need something, she gets it for us. If she calls us, we jump. She's a mover and shaker. But despite all that, she's one of the loneliest people we know. Right now she needs you. Who else is going to look after her?" Junpei did a slow-motion punch at Akihiko's arm.

Akihiko gave him a tiny smile. "You sure know how to give a pep talk."

"Dude, I am the pep-_meister_. Call me Coach Junpei."

Akihiko straightened. He felt sluggish still, but if there was a way to make Mitsuru happy somehow, if there was still a chance, then he had to take it. "Okay. What exactly is this _muko-yoshi_ thing? It sounds familiar."

Fuuka looked thoughtful. "I've never met anyone yet whose family did that, but I heard it used to be common. Maybe it still is. It's not considered a very manly thing to accept, though. Oops." She clapped her hands over her mouth at the _faux pas_.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that, but I'd challenge any jerk questioning my manhood to a round in the ring." At least Akihiko could smile a little now. He worked the fingers of one hand between the metacarpals of the other, massaging them hard.

Aigis' brilliant blue eyes flicked back and forth, as if she were scanning a book too quickly for normal humans. She raised a hand. "Stanford University Library Collection. _Japan by the Japanese_, by Alfred Stead. Page 301. Section on religion. 'The law considered a man childless even though he had a daughter. Those who had daughters only, therefore, were obliged to adopt a son; but it was necessary for the blood of the ancestor, if possible, to be continued in the house. In such cases, a house-head selects an adopted son who is fit to be his daughter's husband."

"The effect of the adoption is that the adopted son acquires the same position as a natural-born, legitimate child. He relinquishes the original house and worship and enters into the house of the adopter, taking the house name and clan name of the latter."

Junpei raised an eyebrow. "Uh, translation please?"

Akihiko rubbed the back of his neck. "So what it means, is that I leave the House of Sanada. I am the only Sanada of my family that I know of, and Mitsuru is the last Kirijo. If she marries appropriately, she will control the Family. If she marries me—" He stopped, flushing crimson. Then what? What did he have to offer, except himself? "—then it would be best if I become an adopted son of the Kirijo clan, but—"

It was unnerving how Aigis stared through him, probably still scanning her archives even as she spoke. "Yes. The Kirijos have built an empire. Successful, traditional Japanese families often place a great deal of emphasis on continuing their lineage."

"And I don't want Mitsuru to think I only want her for her wealth, Aigis. I don't need it."

If his sister Miki had been the one to survive and marry, she would no longer be a Sanada. She could still visit the temple and burn incense for their parents, so was this so bad? He wasn't sure; he was male, things were different. For a guy to do something that usually only girls did—Akihiko would break anyone's head for calling him a "girly-girl" or "whipped," but it was a lot to think about.

Junpei said, "Geez, even if you convince her to marry you, you'd balk at her money? Do you know what I could do with all that loot?" He widened his eyes and made grabby motions.

Fuuka shut her eyes and said, "I have a feeling that if Mitsuru-senpai accepts you, you must accept the Kirijo Group as well. They aren't sold separately. As for continuing both family names, there is the option to name the children—"

Junpei flashed a dopey grin as wide as a continent. "Aw hell, maybe _I'll_ marry Mitsuru-senpai, and save her from a life of despair and immense riches!"

Fuuka coughed politely. Akihiko growled, "Never mind, I'll take the entire package if Mitsuru wants me. Just to save her from you." In that instant, he meant it. He would reshape himself into what Mitsuru needed, if it meant she would retain control of her powerful family. _If it means you can stay close to her_, a dry internal voice corrected him.

Fuuka turned towards the door. "Oh hi, Ken-kun."

Ken Amada took a tentative half-step forward over the threshold. The 6th grader held on to the doorframe with one hand. "Sanada-san, you're 'The Wolf,' aren't you? Will you fight in the Japan International MMA championship this year?"

Akihiko said, "Don't tell me you were waiting outside too."

"No, I just woke. There was a commercial for the tournament on TV. I'll cheer for you all the way." Ken backed up, seemingly from the force of several people staring at him. Koromaru trotted up to the boy and sneezed. Ken rubbed the folds of fur along the back of the dog's neck. "Oh, have you eaten yet, Koro-chan? There's some homemade beef kibble in the refrigerator. Come on."

Junpei's stomach rumbled. He clutched at his middle. "Mm, breakfast," he said vaguely. He flashed a thumbs-up and his trademark grin. "Call me if you need another pep talk, anytime." He hummed something off-key as he wandered away.

Fuuka tapped her index finger to her lips. She seemed to look not quite at Akihiko, but somewhere past him. "I think we're interrupting your morning run. May I use your bathroom for a moment, senpai? We can discuss this in the evening, if you like."

Akihiko nodded. A second later, as Fuuka rose from the floor, he remembered. He dashed over to the bathroom, plastering himself over the door. "Wait! I ah, can't let you."

The petite girl blinked. "Huh? Why not?"

Akihiko said quickly, "Because! There's…the uh, sink is broken. I mean toilet."

Fuuka gave another slow blink, full of laughter. "Okay. I don't think I want to know anyway. I'll check the mirror downstairs. Aigis, are you coming?"

Aigis rose gracefully from her sitting position. Akihiko sagged in relief as they left. He really didn't want anyone potentially seeing or worse yet, smelling the results of his morning. He left his dirty briefs soaking in the sink as he looked for clean socks.

In spite of himself, he was feeling better than he had in days. "Phew. Don't give up yet," he muttered to himself. All he had were his brain and fists. Maybe it would be enough. "Fight? Yeah. I'll give them a world champion fight."


	3. Chapter 3

Shin Megami Tensei Persona 3 FES: The Seduction of Akihiko Sanada

Act Three - by Caeila

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Watery red fluid, body-temperature warm, splattered the front row at Japan International Mixed Martial Arts 2009. It smelled of copper and sweat.

Akihiko glanced up at the balcony, hoping for a glimpse of familiar crimson hair. The fight floor was flooded white by a circle of xenon and carbon arc lamps. He couldn't really see the spectators. Beyond that, the audience pressed against the edges of the cage—dark, shadowy figures shouting for blood.

Eiji wiped his nose on his thumb. He had veins popping out all over, craggy cheekbones high and stark in his face. Diuretics could make a man look that way, especially for the weigh-in.

His furious eyes were two smoldering coals of hate. Before he'd popped in his mouth guard, Eiji spat at Akihiko's feet. "You can still forfeit, kid. Otherwise, I'm going to destroy you in front of her," the older man rasped.

Akihiko met Eiji's gaze with his own. The Gekkoukan High boxer felt himself seeping into that armored, unfeeling corner deep inside his head. Akihiko was molten rock oozing metal blood, his muscles drawn into thick wire cables.

"Bring it on," he said, his voice seeming far away.

This fight—the championship final—was personal.

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_After everyone had left his dorm room, he'd gone for a good long run to clear his mind. He cut past Naganaki Shrine, chill winds blowing down the stone steps, slicing through his sweatshirt. Usually, he would have continued on. Something made him slow and turn around. _

_So many questions rolling in his head, pinging off mental obstacles, like a fistful of steel pinball bearings in play all at once. _

_If his dead family could answer him, what would they advise? Would they think he was abandoning them? He could barely remember his mother, or his father. Shinjiro would think he was crazy, but he'd say, "You could do worse." Miki would see past Mitsuru's icy shell. _

_He mounted the steps. Across the courtyard was a familiar figure, her back turned to him. Dead leaves skittered across the pavement stones between them. She was standing in front of the relationship shrine. _

_Even the shapeless winter athletic gear she wore couldn't obliterate the long, slow curves of her body, or erase his knowledge of that razor intellect under her pretty face. He shook his head. Her red hair burst with the colors of an autumn season just past. She was out for a run too? He carefully backed down the steps, the way he'd come._

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Eiji Nanjo—company president and martial arts fighter—twitched, as if he didn't quite have control over all his muscles. Akihiko had slipped past, nailed him first with an uppercut, then on a solid one-two combo, but the older man had simply shaken them off.

They slipped apart, testing each other with a series of lightning jabs. The older man's arm flashed ahead of Akihiko's countering right cross. Akihiko dipped, but he couldn't avoid a heavy hook smashing into his torso.

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_Fuuka's voice sounded staticky in his ear. "Two ice-based creatures at 11 o' clock, right around the corner. You may be able to run past them." _

_Akihiko wiped his chin with his shoulder. "I popped the chest. 24,796 yen. Just one more and we can—" _

"_No, find an access point now! I sense Death! You can't fight him by yourself!" _

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Akihiko danced; it'd take more than one good hit to put him down. He floated past two jabs, just evading a shin kick. There was an opening; he took it, smashing Eiji with another uppercut, aiming for the overhead track lighting. The other man's head snapped back. Eiji fell against the cage walls.

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_The library should have been silent, but it was filled with the hum of the air-conditioner, students talking in low monotones, and the rustle of paper turning. Every so often, a lone cough or sniffle accented the air._

_Mitsuru was there, highlighting passages from the text __Excursions into Advanced Modern Physics__. Books were stacked around her like fortress battlements. She sat alone, wearing her solitude like a cloak over her shoulders. _

_They were in the same class. Would she think him an idiot if he asked to study together—? _

_"Akihiko-senpai? Are you hiding behind the stacks?" Aigis' mellifluous voice was behind him. He spun around. She was facing the direction he had been a moment ago. She said, "What are you looking—oh."_

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Akihiko followed up with a flurry of punches and a kick to the head. He was sure he felt something crunch. Anyone else would have been tenderized meat under that onslaught. Eiji simply looked at him with a crazy clown smile. The referee stopped Akihiko because Eiji wasn't defending himself.

The older man pulled himself back up like a broken marionette.

Somehow, Eiji swept Ahikiho's forward leg out, flipping him to the canvas. Akihiko fell hard, tried to roll away. The businessman drove his elbow into Akihiko's shoulder, barely scoring a solid hit on younger man's collarbone.

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_Fuuka nearly dropped the heavy, long box that Akihiko handed over. She made a face. "How many do you have? It's not like we're casting a portrait bust." _

_He bounced on his toes and made kangaroo boxing motions. "Take as many as you think you'll need, whatever works. I can get more."_

_Fuuka headed straight for her sedate robot friend sitting on one of the living room loveseats. "Give me a hand?" Aigis obediently raised a palm in the air. Fuuka giggled. "Both hands, please." _

_Junpei and Minato called out from the front door. "Akihiko-senpai, come on!" _

_The three of them piled into 7:35 p.m. train stopping at Paulownia Mall. Along the way, Minato surprised Akihiko by saying, "It seems Mitsuru-senpai feels stagnant. She's noticed you changing. Maybe she feels left behind." _

_The mall and shops were mostly empty when they got there. It was a weekday evening. When they got their karaoke room, Junpei raised his arms in the air and spun around. "Woohoo! Check it out! It's super huge! We can each have our own couch! Sing a few songs with us and you can serenade her when you ask her out!" He'd flipped a switch. A disco ball sprinkled tiny squares of white light everywhere like confetti._

_Minato punched some numbers into the remote control. "Here, let's sing this one, senpai. 'Uptown Girl' by Billy Joel." _

_Akihiko rolled his eyes and reached for a microphone. If he was changing—well, there was only one reason, and he'd let her know soon enough. "You guys come here so often that you memorize the song catalog numbers? Heh. Get ready to be underwhelmed." _

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The bone flexed a little too far, but it was just a fracture. Akihiko countered, knocking Eiji backwards. The pain would grow. He had to end this soon. He tried to pin the man with one knee and pound him into unconsciousness. Akihiko couldn't get his knee set solidly on his opponent's slippery body for the pin; Eiji rolled to his feet and charged, knocking the young man off his feet.

Akihiko tried to land with a knee up. No dice. Eiji rained blows down on Akihiko's head; the young boxer bridged his hips and back, knocking Eiji off-balance, and then he cranked the other man's left heel with his feet. If Eiji hadn't fallen over, he'd risk ripping his Achille's tendon.

End over end they rolled, lock, escape, lock, escape, crashing into the side of the cage.

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_Tea sloshed dangerously in her cup as Mitsuru glanced up from her book. "You're asking me to 'meet' with you at the Beef Bowl Shop?" _

"_Yeah," he said, perspiring. _

"_You've never asked me that before." _

"_No," he said._

"_Why not Fuuka?" There was a hint of concealed bitterness. It was oddly as if Mitsuru spoke to herself. _

_He said, "What?"_

"_You've been spending a lot of time together. Maybe you ought to ask her instead." Now there was no inflection, only a simple factual statement. _

_He felt a flash of anger. "No, don't push me away. Mitsuru—" _

_They were alone in the common room. With most girls, he was awkward, but he'd known Mitsuru for years. After everything that had happened, he didn't have to be timid. _

_Akihiko put his palms down on the armrests at either side of the Kirijo heiress' seat. She gasped quietly as he leaned in, but she didn't back down. _

_He stared into her eyes, tired and vulnerable from long nights studying, worrying, fighting, pleasing the Kirijo business alliances, whatever, at that moment, he didn't want to know. The smell of her subtle perfume, the sweetness of her lip gloss, the shampoo she'd used—his resolve solidified. "Listen, Fuuka's really into Keisuke, the Art Club president." He choked a little. "And I am absolutely sure—that I am really—into you." _

_Time stopped. The sound of his heartbeat flooded his ears. _

"_Okay," she said slowly. "I haven't eaten yet. Let me get my coat." _

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Neither man could get leverage. They sprung apart and up. Akihiko was getting tired, but he slipped under Eiji's guard, attacking the other man's midsection with a series of punches. Each one carried the force of Akihiko's hatred, his fury at the thought of Mitsuru being mistreated.

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_They decided to walk to Iwatodai Station in order to enjoy the evening: a crystal blue twilight with the tiniest whisper of frost in the air, and a glowing fingernail of moon hanging low in the sky. _

_Akihiko peeked out of the corner of his eye at the young woman beside him. She gave no sign of noticing. He wondered if she'd make him pay for his boldness later. _

_A man's strident voice called out behind them. "There you are! I've been looking for you all over." _

_Mitsuru breathed one word, "Eiji." She stopped, turned and walked towards the well-dressed man, her entire posture radiating measured haughtiness. Akihiko thought it wise to hang back. _

_The two spoke for a minute or so. Then Mitsuru burst out, "How dare you speak of my father like that. You have no right." If looks could kill, Eiji would have been an instant popsicle._

_Akihiko ran towards her. _

_The man smirked. "The Kirijo Family needs my company's help; you cannot disobey me." He grabbed her arm. _

_Akihiko snarled, "Let her go." _

_The businessman tightened his grip. Mitsuru did not attempt to break free; she stood defiantly. Eiji was speaking. "You are such trouble. Even though you're only in high school—"_

_Akihiko said, "Last warning. Let her go."_

_Eiji ignored him. Akihiko struck the man's upturned wrist hard enough to make the limb go numb. The man let go. Akihiko moved to stand next to Mitsuru. She seemed surprised. _

_Curious people had stopped to watch from a safe distance. One of them laughingly called out, "Hey mister, don't you know who that is? Don't mess with his girl!" Akihiko thought he recognized the supportive voice as belonging to one of his boxing team's sophomores. _

_Eiji gave Akihiko a venomous look. "I could get you for assault. You should know your place, delinquent." _

_Mitsuru finally snapped, her voice shaking. "If you insult him, you insult me!" _

_._

The fight had gone on too long. Eiji kept his feet. Impossible. Akihiko was nearly blind with anger. He couldn't afford the feeling. He stuffed that sparking rage deep underground, where it waited with berserk silver eyes.

He felt a poke and a scratch on his arm, something sharp.

A minute later, he couldn't breathe, couldn't keep his arms up. Eiji slammed into him again and again, fists relentless as a trash compactor. Akihiko was the trash.

His nose exploded in a bright spray of hot blood. His eye socket impacted inwards. Eiji's elbow blasted his ear, sending a searing force through his eardrum. The young man's consciousness dissolved. His last faint thought was, "Mitsuru, I failed. I'm sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

Shin Megami Tensei Persona 3 FES: The Seduction of Akihiko Sanada

Act Four - by Caeila

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Akihiko's mouth tasted like damp cotton sacking. Four squares of blurry moonlight touched crisp bed linens, diffusing throughout the room. This soft light flowed into the spaces around a young woman dozing in the chair next to his bed. "Mmmiiisuuru?" he croaked in surprise.

Her head snapped up. With perfect clarity she said, "You're awake. Go back to sleep, it's—" She paused. "It's 4 a.m." A sleepy sparrow outside a window cracked open for ventilation twittered its agreement.

"Water?" Even he could barely hear himself speak.

There was movement in the darkness, a whisper of cloth, and liquid rushing into a glass. A firm hand propped him up. Cool filtered water met his lips. He drank.

When he finished, he said, "Wanted to win it. For you." There was a sense of something hard and tight beneath his gut. White-hot anger flared, but quickly cooled to simmering yellow, then died to ashy resignation.

"Shhh. Don't talk." Some small quiver of relief was apparent in her voice.

Akihiko reached up to touch his face. There was gauze over his overripe tomato of a left eye, and a plastic splint taped over his nose. His head felt like one big sore watermelon. His body ached too, but he could move. He was a little surprised to be able to talk; he'd expected to be injured beyond awful. "How long?"

"The Dark Hour has come and gone twice. I tried casting Diarama on you. It doesn't seem as effective when your wounds are caused by anything other than Shadows."

Akihiko thought hard. The effort was exhausting. "My ribs. Shadow…threw me. Into concrete overhang. That's right." He was not sure if he had uttered those words aloud.

The young man drifted back into sleep, comforted by a small, warm hand in his, and what seemed to be the light pressure of a bird's wing on his brow. Mitsuru may have said something more, but it faded like the last note of a violin solo.

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The next time he woke, a blue-clad medical orderly was whispering into Mitsuru's ear. Cold gray evening streamed into the room, casting indistinct shadows. Wind ruffled empty tree branches outside. There was a TV in the room, bolted to the ceiling, but it was off. A waist-high gas space heater made of polished brass hissed its warmth at the foot of the bed.

Mitsuru always looked beautiful to him, even with tired blue shadows under her eyes. He felt sorry for making her worry over him again. Her cell phone buzzed; her eyes darted to him. Akihiko waved hello with the tips of his fingers; she looked pleased. The orderly handed her a white envelope and slid out of the room, leaving it as if he had never been.

Atop the bedside table was a small boombox. It looked like a green alien head, made by Kirijo Electronics. Akihiko thought he'd last seen it in Junpei's room. He heard a click to his right and Mitsuru's silken voice. "Uncle? Yes, he just woke."

Leaning against the stereo was a CD with a handwritten label. Akihiko snorted involuntarily, laughter counteracting the steady pain in his movement. It read, "Dance & Romance Mix for Aki. –Minato, Junpei, Ken & Koro."

Mitsuru said, "Eh? But he hasn't been coherent for two days. Oh—I see."

He guessed Yukari had brought the juicy red grapes. The cheerful teal fish-shaped bowl seemed like something she'd pick, and she liked seedless grapes as much as he did. Under it, near the edge of the table, sat a block of paper-wrapped soap and a little indigo velvet box. Both Fuuka and Aigis had visited. He palmed the hinged box.

Mitsuru's voice lowered. "Fine. Not more than a few minutes. But if he falls asleep, we will not wake him."

Over everything hovered an elegant miniature bamboo arrangement in a glass stand, likely Mitsuru's contribution. He traced its restful curling stems with his eyes. Bamboo signified many things, one of which was strength in the face of adversity. It lent an air of spring freshness to the room.

She said, "I will not stand for—eh? Testing me? …I'll see you in 30 minutes, then. Goodbye."

Next to his bed, Mitsuru unfolded a piece of paper. She scanned it. There was a flash of disquiet in her face, then she relaxed. "I don't like to see Nanjo Entertainment's stock price affected by this, but—on top of losing, Eiji has been suspended from fighting for the next year. Good."

"Huh?"

"He was abusing human growth hormone; the promoter knew." Mitsuru shook her head, as if shaking away an insect. "Eiji also took crystal methamphetamine right before your round, he didn't feel anything you did to him. He will when he comes out of it. That was _très magnifique_, Akihiko. You pushed him beyond anyone's physical limits, even when he was augmented by drugs."

"I…what?"

"You won." She looked at him carefully. "You don't remember?"

Akihiko's eyes moved to his arm. There was still an ugly scratch there, like a bloody thread fraying on his skin. All the body fluids flying during the fight could have disguised it.

Mitsuru put a DVD into the player below the TV. She fast-forwarded through the championship fight video.

Akihiko saw himself crumple. Eiji turned, arms in the air, to celebrate his victory. The crowd roared its delight.

Behind Eiji, video-Akihiko rose off the canvas.

The final attack was swift. Video-Akihiko tapped Eiji on the shoulder.

As Eiji turned, video-Akihiko's fist shot out, dislocating Eiji's jaw. The editors had added a slow-motion close-up: Akihiko, his mouth and chin splattered with red blood. Akihiko, looking as if his good eye had rolled to the back of his head. The eye was white.

Or was that silver?

In a single smooth movement, video-Akihiko swept the man's arm into a lock, popping the shoulder. He spun as Eiji howled, ramming the other man's kidneys, and ending with a powerful head strike.

There was some wavering static, as if images from another channel were interfering with the DVD playback. Akihiko-in-bed imagined he saw the ghostly overlay of another body over his recorded self, this one with blonde hair waving out behind it.

Eiji dropped. He did not move. A referee lifted video-Akihiko's arm into the air as he fell to his knees, his head down.

Mitsuru switched the TV off and ejected the DVD.

"Uncle Takeshi wants to meet you; he'll stop by soon. He likes you, don't worry." She slid her hand into his. "The others spoke to me about adopting you into the Kirijo Family. I couldn't ask that of you. I did some genealogical research, you're the only Sanada son left."

Akihiko thought, _Give her the box._

She touched his chest. "I—I thought it would be better if you found someone—hm?"

He closed her hand around the velvet box.

She stared at him in confusion for a moment, then slowly opened it.

Out of it she lifted a silvery chain, shining like web-clung dew on a chill dawn. Dangling below was a circular silver snowflake. Perfectly rendered, tiny symmetrical branches radiated outward.

Diamonds the size of a pinprick sparkled at the tips of the silver branches. The pendant spun, ethereal, in the air currents flowing through the clinic. The effect was electric.

Akihiko thought, _Now win her._

He found his voice. "It's engraved. Here, read." He pushed a magnifying card across the nightstand to her. It had been under the box.

"I need more light." She turned on a bedside lamp, the brightness piercing his eyes. After a moment, she said, "It's so small."

He waited, his heart going pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat until he thought he might be sick.

"Mitsuru. That's my name. And…Akihiko Kirijo. Forever. Oh." Her dark lavender eyes had welled up, becoming intensely blue-black. "Akihiko Kirijo," she repeated. Long tendrils of hair veiled her expression.

He gazed intently at her. "My family will forgive me. Junpei said he was going to marry you. If I didn't."

"Iori." There was laughter in her voice.

It took Akihiko a while to get the whole story out. "Gave Fuuka my silver medals to melt. She got the stones. Yukari designed it, thought you would like this. Aigis modified an old albireo with…sapphire and orange lasers for detail work. Water?"

She placed the edge of her glass against his lips. He drank.

"Minato was our courier boy. Ken said I ought to engrave it. He and Junpei were supposed to distract you…from noticing anything. Koro-chan—he sneezed on it when he saw it."

He chuckled. "Everyone helped look for treasure chests, to help pay for it…I thought you'd like a silver necklace best. Goes with the motif…so how about it?" He touched her arm. "Mitsuru? Will you marry me?"

She was silent.

Then she said, "The Ama-Pro protein shake people are already looking to sign you on a large advertising contract."

She turned her face up to the dim overhead light, eyes shining. "It would be difficult for the Kirijo Family to reject an international sporting champion as my suitor. One of the youngest welterweight champions in the world. That was the idea, wasn't it?"

Akihiko nodded. "I'll help. You don't have to carry the Kirijo Family by yourself." He hung his arm over the side of the bed railing and touched her leg. He felt better, stronger when he could touch her. "We can take the exams, go to college. Study business management…I can get a boxing scholarship if I stay amateur."

"You're babbling again. Just like before." She idly rubbed his bed's steel handrail. "I like to hear you talk."

"Well?"

"There must be children, and—"

He smiled at the vision of a silver-haired daughter and a redheaded son. "Of course. Eventually."

"What if we get bored with each other?" There was some secret sadness in her voice.

"No. Never. Won't happen."

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this right now."

Akihiko glared. His head throbbed. "If not now, when?"

She looked wary. "You won't be able to live in obscurity, Akihiko." She bent, putting a finger to his lips. Her fragrant scent drifted over him. "No, listen. You'll become a target, like me. Even now, there is a mess of reporters downstairs. They're waiting to get your comments about the match and the Nanjo drug scandal. The attention will only intensify if you become a Kirijo."

"I'm used to being chased."

She stood back, crossing an arm under her breasts. She searched his eyes. There was a slight tremor to her words. "I still don't understand—you'd give up freedom—why?"

"Because—I don't know! I love your fierceness. Your innocence. The way you crinkle your nose. I'm not giving up anything, I'd gain—" He blew out a breath, but started coughing, which made his head pound. He choked back his nausea.

Mitsuru held her glass of water out to him tentatively. He gulped some of it, staring at her with his good eye. "I don't know what the hell…I'm supposed to say. You're sad, I'm sad. You're happy, I'm happy. Is that enough? You always take care of me…I want to take care of you."

The young woman looked stricken. She dug around in her bag, pulling out something soft and red, encased in a clear zip-lock bag like a lab specimen. "I forgot about these. Someone left them in my resort room."

She shyly placed the red thing on the bed, next to his arm. "I didn't have the heart to return them before. They've been washed."

He said, "Quit evading—!"

Mitsuru spoke distinctly, as if she hadn't heard his outburst. "I—I think I was going to keep them." She stopped. Akihiko held his breath, keeping his confusion in check. She seemed to be struggling to say something. "But now, I'll have access to all of your underwear that I want. So yes."

"What are you going to do with…?" His eyes widened. "Huh. Wait a second…you said yes? You said…?"

"Of course, red is not the only color you could wear. I will have our family stylist select some new items for you."

"You're killing me."

"No, I'm 'executing' you. I can't turn you into a liar on my behalf, after what you told our junior classmates in Kyoto." She laughed at his expression. Her face smoothed into mischievous delight, as beautiful as the curve of a red-crowned crane's flight. "Perhaps however, _la petit mort_ would be enough."

He felt his face settle into a wolfishly eager grin. "'The little death.' Do you promise?"

"If you're good, and when you're better able to withstand it." She stroked his inner arm. "You know the term?"

"I spend…almost as much time in the library 'studying' as you do…Ms. Valedictorian," he replied.

She closed her eyes, shook her head and smiled. He loved that look.

Akihiko tugged her down weakly. Mitsuru nestled in the hollow of his neck. Her hair trailed across the bare skin that his hospital scrubs didn't cover, tickling like feathery wingtips.

"Akihiko," she whispered, "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

Shin Megami Tensei Persona 3 FES: The Seduction of Akihiko Sanada

Act Five: Epilogue - by Caeila

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Evenings for the past several weeks had been sporadically punctuated with unexplained cold snaps and momentary blackouts. A couple of times, light bulbs had exploded. I had been out on walks for these instances, but I heard the others talk. We lived in a ten-year-old brownstone dorm, not nearly old enough for strange behavior, and I had not noticed any hauntings.

Everyone would return soon. Until then, I was on my own, spending most of the day snoozing by the TV. Mmm yes. It sure would have been nice if someone put a pet door in the place. I'd have to ask Aigis to ask alpha matriarch Mitsuru about that.

As I mused, footsteps came up the front walkway. I knew them, but just to make sure—

One of the common room windows was open for ventilation. Sniff. It was a lovely, shimmery day, no hint of sleet or snow. Cold weather made smelling harder, but I could manage. A couple of black crows cawed in the front lawn, oily wings flapping. Sunlight bounced off warmed grass, carrying the sharp scents of other dogs, a stray cat darting into the alleyway to the north, rubber bicycle tire particles, gasoline fumes, oh, and hmm…two people, two sets of smells, two voices.

Mitsuru-matriarch and alpha patriarch Akihiko, back from school. Most excellent.

Mitsuru said, "So about those new pastries at the bakery—"

It was rare that the two of them were the first ones home. My curled tail wagged furiously, just as happy to see them as the rest of me. The door clacked open, and a refreshing gust of cold air tickled through my fur.

Akihiko chuckled. "Yes, they must be trying to refresh their selection. Hey, Koro-chan. We're back."

Woof! Mitsuru-matriarch was closer. I approached her to investigate.

Mitsuru had distinct fragrances that changed at different points on her body. I snuggled against her calves. The back of her knees, for instance, differed from her wrists. She generally smelled of crisp cedar mixed with aloe, charcoal, and hard leather polish.

She reached down to pet me, murmuring a greeting. Something fell free, sparkling at her throat. Ah, the silver snowflake. Her sleeves were touched with ballpoint and highlighter ink, foamy hand soap and chalk. Yukari often came home with chalky pine resin powder on her clothes; this was different, drier, like limestone.

She spoke to Akihiko. "We're back at the dorms. Now will you tell me why you were laughing back there?"

I discreetly pointed my snout at Mitsuru's crotch. Humans are a bit touchy about that area, for some reason. Polite as always, if a bit distracted today, she stood still for her daily check. I inhaled deeply of rainfall and an intriguing humid musk.

Akihiko craned his neck around the room. He rumbled his merriment. "Coast is clear. Consider their name."

I turned to greet Akihiko also, so he wouldn't feel left out. Akihiko usually possessed a good clean sweat. I leaned hard against his legs. He was pungent and salty and gritty like ocean tides and beach sand. Akihiko also carried hints of other people on him. He must have stopped by the boxing club today, if only for a moment. He reached down to scratch my back. I wiggled in delight.

Mitsuru crossed her arms under her breasts. "What about it?"

"Honeymoon donuts."

"Well, they're round like the moon. Maybe they're made with honey?"

Unlike Mitsuru, whose scents were more distinctly localized, Akihiko's smells tended to blend together into a complex whole. Most humans don't really notice these sorts of things. His dark school pants seemed ionized with spring water, his groin faintly peppery. Traces of yellow bar soap, old sweat-soaked canvas, clanging iron and slick concrete clung to him like invisible decorations.

"Take a closer look," Akihiko said. He undid the twist tie of a clear plastic bag and slid it down around a pillowy round object.

Sugar! Fresh oil! Chewable starches! The hole was a little piece of dough perforated along its edges. I smacked my lips and made tearful round eyes, hoping someone would notice.

"See? The center hasn't been"–-Akihiko thrust his finger through the center in a fluid motion—"poked out yet." A donut hole fell out. Akihiko flashed a Junpei-esque grin and popped the piece in his mouth. I watched his actions attentively.

Mitsuru dropped her schoolbag on the floor—no food in there—and stepped closer, grasping his hand as if mesmerized. She gazed at him with a half-smile on her face; he returned the smile, and I imagined my best case scenario: that someone would be clumsy enough to drop the open bag where I could snap up a sample.

Mitsuru parted her lips and licked Akihiko's fingers tentatively, like a little blind kitten, making an inarticulate hungry sound in her throat. Of course top dog gets first dibs, I thought. Oh please oh please oh please I'll take a crumb, I will. Her appealing rainfall scent had intensified. I snurfed with interest. She delicately cleaned Akihiko's hand of sugary bits, staring at him the entire time. I stared as hard as I could, too.

Akihiko had turned a radiant hue of warm pink. He seemed frozen, staring at Mitsuru-matriarch.

Akihiko-patriarch didn't seem to be aware of it, but his body was humming too. It was like a TV with the volume turned way down. Sometimes Junpei and Ken would fall asleep in front of the TV like that, especially after an all-night horror movie marathon. I snorted. If the alphas weren't going to eat the damn donut, I had a mind to bump them and remind them I was conveniently available—

"Oh, I get it." Mitsuru looked around quickly as she held his arm. She put her cheek next to Akihiko's, her lips barely touching his. He was breathing shallowly. "Not your shower," she said. Her voice was heated, sultry.

"No," he agreed. Akihiko slid his free hand underneath Mitsuru's winter school jacket. "I had to use yours for three days while it defrosted. Not that it was a bad thing—"

"Then where?"

"What about the rooftop? I'm glad that weather-making of yours mostly overwhelms my powers." His hand slipped down to grasp her wool-clad rear.

"Hmph. I'm glad we're the highest building around here. You won't be cold?" She had become a fetching tint of red as well.

"I expect I'll be somewhere warm enough." Akihiko rumbled deep in his chest, putting emphasis on the 'r's in "where" and "warm." But he didn't let go of the donut bag. I sighed.

"All right. I'll get a tarp, you get the blankets."

"Yes, Miss Kirijo."

Mitsuru-matriarch smelled increasingly sexy as she spoke to Akihiko-patriarch. She was a dizzying combination of delicious fresh abalone, a bitch in luscious heat, a spring downpour over mown grass and the promise of refreshing ice in a summer drink.

Akihiko's fragrance hinted of damp underbrush in deep forest and spicy peppercorns and lichen on rough tree bark and ozone during lightning storms—

I remembered fondly a French poodle and Norwegian Elkhound mix of my acquaintance. She had lived down the street from the shrine a year ago. Adelaide had been striking, not beautiful in the classic sense, but she carried herself well. She had been raised in Paris and her fragrance near-equaled Mitsuru-matriarch.

My tail, which often has a mind of its own, started thumping faster. It's perfectly natural that I licked myself in honor of her memory. Ah, youth.

One day, _mi amour_ had invited me to play behind the trees, while our humans sat nearby talking to each other. She told me that she knew I had been admiring her from afar and—well, one thing led to another—let me just say she found me attractive as well. I regret that her humans moved to another city soon thereafter. _C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, _she had said with a Gallic shrug.

Enough of reverie. The matriarch and patriarch had gone ahead. Alas, I had been forgotten. I sauntered partway up the stairs to follow out of curiosity when the front doorknob rattled open.

Fuuka Yamagishi came through the door with a fir-green knapsack and two viridian tote bags full of groceries. A black laptop bag was strapped across her torso. The luggage made her look like a lumpy turtle. Her scent was mainly of cool moss, with an overlay of Conté crayon. I greeted her happily; she was starting to get the hang of cooking kibble, with Ken Amada's help. Only every other batch was ruined now.

Ken trailed behind her into the room. All I could see of him were two legs, and a third tote bag of groceries that he held in front of him. He smelled of pencil graphite and basketball rubber. I idly inspected the groceries he carried. A tub of miso, a bunch of leafy mizuna, a bag of mikan tangerines, metal tins—not anything that I could eat straightaway.

"Hi Koro-chan! We stopped by the store to get some of that canned food for you that you like so much," Fuuka said. Ah! Her lilting voice was music to my ears. I licked her face and Ken's, making sure they knew I appreciated their generosity. The lights above flickered, died, came back.

"Oh dear." Fuuka put her grocery bags down on the kitchen table. "Let's get some flashlights just in case, Ken-chan. Want to come along, Koro-chan?"

Ken split off to stop by his room on the second floor. I followed her to the third floor, where she switched on a small rubberized flashlight and allowed me to clamp my jaws around it. If the lights went out, I would be fine without, but I am always happy to be of assistance to humans who do not see as well in the dark as I.

My ears twitched. Two floors above, very faintly, I heard startlingly happy sounds. They were arousing in their joy, both male and female voices. Love does make everything better. Oh my.

I thought again of my Adelaide, and my ears drooped a little. I was truly happy for matriarch and patriarch, but feeling a little sorry for myself.

"Koro-chan, are you okay?" Fuuka petted me, getting just the right itchy spot under my collar. Her consideration cheered me, and I nuzzled her gratefully. We met Ken along the way, a gust of frosty air following us as we clumped down the stairs.

We left our flashlights nearby. Ken cracked open the metal tin of my food and gave it to me in a heavy blue bowl. Fuuka boiled water and launched an all-out whirlwind attack on the groceries. Ken pushed a high wooden chair to the laminate counter and sat next to her. I nosed into the aroma of juicy chicken, bone meal and nutty brown rice. The homey clatter of chopping and stir-frying enveloped us.

By then, Aigis and Junpei Iori had returned home. They stopped in the kitchen to visit. Junpei tried to sneak up on me, yelling "Boo!" from an arm's length away. I barked a hello at him. He cackled, poured some hot water for his instant ramen and headed upstairs. "Got a lot of studying to do tonight!" he declared, earning several unconvinced eyes in his direction. "After I take a meal break and all!"

"Maybe he met a nerdy girl in cram school," offered Ken.

"Did Mitsuru-senpai get him to go to cram school? That's amazing." Fuuka scooped something from a pan and tasted it. The gas stove clicked off. "Ken-chan, I think this is okay. What do you think?" I snuffled; it smelled like beef broccoli with carrots, and unburned this time.

Ken seemed to like it enough, as he accepted a bowl with rice. He settled at the kitchen table with a magazine, courageous child.

Aigis leaned towards me, the supple, subtle fragrance of her machine oil wafting in my direction. "I have already finished my homework. Would you like to go for a walk?" she inquired.

It was just the thing to cap off a brilliant meal. I lolled my tongue and nodded. She retrieved my leash from a drawer under the counter. As she attached it to my collar, she cocked her head slightly. "Did you hear that, Koro-chan?"

I'm afraid I was too lost in the delight of a potential excursion to notice. Aigis petted me with understanding. In the meantime, Fuuka took her bowl and switched on the evening news broadcast. The weather report would be on right after the commercials. Once again, the lights flickered. I fancied a snowflake had been blown indoors.

We exited into the sharp, clear evening. A steady breeze swirled around us in the front portico. "Which way?" Aigis pointed in three different directions. I picked the direction of the shrine.

We were down the stairs and on the sidewalk when she and I, with our superior senses, heard a feminine scream of the most erotic nature. My mechanical friend had only enough time to utter, "Mitsu—?" before we were buried in an avalanche of fluffy powdered snow. Whuff.

We dug ourselves out of the pile, what fun! An immense thunderclap followed, a blinding flash bringing the entire neighborhood into sharp relief—chasing us back into the building, where I felt the irresistible need to rid myself all that chilly snow. I do regret shaking it off into the foyer, but it seemed necessary at the time.

Fuuka was looking at the windows behind us in astonishment. "The weather report said we'd have clear skies and sun for the rest of the week," she said. "Those weathermen are so rarely right. We'll have to dig ourselves out of here or wait for that snow to melt."

She refocused her wide, dark eyes on us. "Aigis? You might want to go stand in your shower and brush off the snow on your head."

That was when the power went out. We heard a manly shriek. Junpei came pounding down the stairs. "I nearly beat the final boss in Last Legend XXII on his _seventh_ transformation!" he cried.

The power returned to life. "Aw hell," Junpei said. He stumped back up the stairs.

"I thought he was studying," Fuuka mumbled. Ken had come into the common room. He simply shrugged. Aigis' posture was perfectly straight. Not a crystal of snow dust had dislodged from her head or shoulders. Her cerulean eyes looked wordlessly up at the ceiling.

That was how Aigis and I began to suspect the truth behind the dorm's recently strange events. I have asked her not to speak of this to anyone. For whatever reason, I feel that Mitsuru-matriarch and Akihiko-patriarch wish to keep it their own personal secret.

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THE VERY EDUCATIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTE

This fic is TOTALLY fantasy and not meant to mirror real life in any way. Mitsuru is fictional, so lucky her--she gets as many erogenous zones as a terrestrial tabletop globe, i.e. all around and upside down, wheeee! Akihiko gets--uh, anything he gets, mwahahaha! Comments would be great.

Originally, I wanted to write an erotic scene just because both of these characters were screaming for it. It's meant for women. Sorry, guys. I got tired of seeing craptastic hentai doujinshi –-great art, zero story, and no Akihiko in all his bare-assed glory—so I wrote Act One for myself, just to see if I could.

In the back of my head, I didn't want to deal with the big MitsuAki question, i.e. will they ever get together or not?

After I wrote the basic scene, I realized that I hate tragic shit. I had written just that. Pretty much everything after Act One then ended up being justification and redemption for my own mental well-being.

I figured Akihiko could be an MMA fighter, since boxing is not necessarily only Western—Asian martial arts were also known as boxing, because Westerners had no other name for it at the time. Note that Akihiko uses glove-like weapons of all types such as the Roman cestus and brass knuckles. If you're into MMA, let me know if what I did was legal, as I'm not really quite sure. I had to research some; I think it's okay.

Final words: Many hearts to Mitsuru x Akihiko! They wouldn't leave me alone until they had some kind of "happy ending." Oh please, oh please, let them quit yanking my mind all over the place. And in case you're wondering, I was recently aghast at finding that a local bakery sells such a thing as honeymoon donuts.


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